Of Poetry
Of Poetry
It fed me once when I was young
It feeds me now I’m old
It warms me like the winter sun
Against the biting cold
There are no verses now to write
But there are songs to sing
Against the darkness of the night
While winter turns to spring
Roy Frank Obrigewitsch
Posted at 01:17h, 29 MarchA good song! Thanks Eric.
Vicky Chen
Posted at 06:31h, 29 MarchThank you for this poetic reflection, Eric. It is a sigh deeper than words.
Laurence
Posted at 12:22h, 29 MarchBeautiful! thanks Eric!
Jeanine Glute
Posted at 12:41h, 29 MarchThanks Eric. You have such a gift!
Peter Bisson
Posted at 15:29h, 29 MarchThank you Eric!